


Learn To Fly

by PetrificusSomewhatus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, flowerpot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrificusSomewhatus/pseuds/PetrificusSomewhatus
Summary: Gabrielle Delacour was a fan of two things: Quidditch and Harry Potter. This is the story of how her two passions helped two Tri Wizard Champions find their way.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91
Collections: Flowerpot Garden Collection One





	Learn To Fly

**February 27, 1995**

Harry kept his head stubbornly down and focused on his meal. He thought he'd finally caught a bit of a break from the nonsense that seemed to be all-encompassing in his fourth year at Hogwarts, but the exuberant high of not dying in the Second Task had lasted a mere four days. Then that stupid Skeeter article had not only arrived at Hogwarts but had been read aloud minutes ago during his Potions class. He glanced up for the briefest of seconds and saw a nearby Hufflepuff purposely flashing his _Potter Stinks_ badge for him to see.

 _That's what I get for looking up,_ he mused, gluing his eyes once again to his meal. He only had to survive through supper and then he'd get to see Sirius tomorrow. Just a few more minutes of the stares and he'd be able to escape back to Gryffindor.

The plan for the next day had been set. Eat breakfast in the kitchen in the morning and pick up some extra food for Snuffles. The plan had absolutely nothing to do with the desire to avoid his adoring (and non-adoring) public. Not at all. And he was definitely not wolfing down his food as quickly as possible in order to sprint back to-

His musings were interrupted by a delicate tap on his shoulders.

Apparently, another idiot wanted to show off their badge…or maybe read aloud from the _Witch Weekly_ article…or perhaps the student body had come up with a new method of annoying him. But whatever the tapper's intentions were they were going to be for naught, because he was _not_ going to turn around.

When the taps commenced once again he'd had enough.

"I'm not in the mood for your stupid jokes so kindly bugger off," he muttered, drawing a gasp from Hermione, which was odd. She had been just as annoyed by Skeeter's article and 'bugger' wasn't even _that_ bad of a word. He looked up to see his friend pointing to a spot just above his shoulder. At the _tapper_.

"I think Fleur needs to speak with you, Harry," Hermione advised before casually elbowing Ron in the ribs. He'd most likely been staring again. Probably drooling as well.

Fantastic. He'd finally gotten on the girl's good side by needlessly saving her sister and then immediately shot it to hell for telling her to bugger off. He had a brief, idiotic moment of hope at the remote possibility that 'bugger' was a term of affection in French.

"Sorry about that Fleur," he mumbled as he turned to face her. Based on her expression 'bugger' was definitely NOT a term of affection in French, but the good news was she wasn't scowling, merely looking at him in confusion.

"I was hoping I could speak with you," Fleur stated simply. "But if now is a bad time-"

"No!" he replied a bit more forcefully than intended. He could live with a slightly less full stomach if it meant he could escape the Great Hall a few minutes earlier than expected.

"I'll see you back in Gryffindor," he informed Hermione and Ron before following Fleur out of the fishbowl.

Once they were well shot of the room he wasted no time in beginning his mea culpa. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said back there. I've just had a bad day and I thought you- Well it doesn't matter what I thought. I'm sorry."

"It is fine, Harry. We all say things we regret in the heat of the moment, no?" she replied with a smile. He guessed she was referring to her 'little boy' comment.

"Okay, thank you," he mumbled. "So, you wanted to talk to me?"

Fleur's expression changed to something Harry couldn't quite comprehend. Was she… _nervous_?

"I was hoping to ask a favor of you."

Harry's mind whirled as he tried, and failed, to come up with anything he could possibly help Fleur with.

"I have heard you are very skilled at Quidditch," she continued, which only added to his confusion.

"I'm all right," he said, taken off guard by the compliment.

"Based on how you handled that dragon I'm guessing you are more than all right, but it matters not what I think. Gabrielle is positive you are amazing at Quidditch."

"That's nice," he replied, not knowing what else to say. This conversation was becoming odder and odder.

"My sister is a very big fan of Quidditch and, despite her age, is already a fair flier."

"That's nice," he repeated, cringing at how stupid he sounded. _Stop saying stupid things,_ he mentally commanded.

"My parents would beg to differ. She is quite a hellion in the skies and has very little regard for her own safety. Veela can be very pigheaded…passionate. Gabrielle is very passionate and very stupid about flying.

"Sounds a bit like me," he replied, drawing a laugh from Fleur. "If you need someone to talk to her about safety or something I don't think I'm the right person for the job"

"No, no, that ship has sailed, unfortunately, and from what I've heard and seen safety is not one of your strong points either."

Harry had to repeat back Fleur's comment over in his mind. Did she just…make a joke? As he was pondering this bizarre new reality she continued.

"I am here at the request of my sister. She was entranced by your flying in the first task, and now that you've _saved her_ she's gathered up enough courage to ask, well…have _me_ ask, if you could fly with her one day."

Another unexpected request. Tomorrow was out due to the Hogsmeade weekend, but Sunday seemed like it would be manageable and he could do with the break. Hermione had laid out a whole schedule for the day to begin preparing for the maze…and he had loads of homework coming due…but he purposely pushed all of that to the background and focused on the flying. He'd missed getting to take to the skies without the fear of being engulfed in flame. Yes, the extremely dangerous tournament and piles of unfinished homework were a problem for another day.

"Okay," he agreed. His response clearly took Fleur by surprise.

"You do not have to say yes, Harry. I only promised my sister that I would make the request."

"Do you _want_ me to say no?" he asked in confusion.

Fleur laughed and shook her head. First a joke and now a laugh. What was happening right now? And how could someone have such a pretty laugh?

"It is fine, Harry, I just don't want you to feel pressured into spending time with my maniac sister."

"No, it's really fine, '' he reassured. "Maybe this coming Sunday?"

Before she could answer he let out a groan of frustration. He'd forgotten that the Quidditch pitch was unavailable due to the sodding tournament.

"What is it?"

"We don't have a place to fly. The maze is on top of where we usually play Quidditch."

Fleur laughed again. "That was my original excuse for Gabrielle. She has spoken personally with your groundskeeper and secured a spot."

"Really?"

"My sister is a force of nature, Harry. Just do me a favor and don't encourage her to be even more foolish on a broom."

"I make no promises," Harry joked, drawing a second (!) laugh.

They quickly agreed on a time and said their goodbyes. Harry was just about to walk away when he was stopped by Fleur.

"I nearly forgot. You should know that Gabrielle has decided that you will be her husband someday," she supplied cheerfully as she began walking away.

**July 31, 199** **7**

Harry threw off the covers and quietly made his way out of Ron's room. Between Ron and Hermione's hovering, Mrs. Weasley's interrogations, and Ginny's mere presence, he felt like he hadn't had a moment's peace since his arrival at the Burrow. And now he couldn't even properly fall asleep, his brain consumed with thoughts of the monumental task that he had in front of him.

He was all set to lie down on the sofa and see if a change in venue would help when he noticed there was a light on in the kitchen. It was insane and paranoid but he gripped his wand just a bit tighter and slowly crept into the room.

"Fleur?"

He saw her cast a bit of magic at her face and the tears that he had spotted disappeared.

"Harry! What's wrong?" she greeted him with false pleasantness. As beautiful as she was it was obvious that she was upset.

"Couldn't sleep," he answered awkwardly.

"So I'm not the only one," she joked. She looked very tired.

He realized it would be weird and odd if he fled from the room, opting instead to pour a glass of water and have a seat. Fleur gave him an uncomfortable smile and he realized that he'd probably made it worse. She clearly wanted to be alone and he'd planted himself directly across from her. He was so _bad_ with crying girls.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, "I'll just drink this and –"

"No!" she interrupted forcefully before muttering something under her breath in French.

"I am sorry, Harry," she continued in a much calmer voice. "You are one of the few Weasleys besides Bill that can actually stand being in the same room with me and I'm making you want to leave."

He could not believe how spectacularly he was mucking this up. "I think you're exaggerating, and besides, you didn't do anything. It just looked like you wanted to be alone."

"It is fine, Harry. It is good. I am glad you are here," she replied as she gave his hand a reassuring pat. "I am not really upset, just very…how you say…stressed out? There is so much happening and I'm getting married in two days. It is very hard for me to-"

She had stopped talking abruptly and was now waving her arms, clearly struggling for the words to explain what she was feeling.

"You can't get your brain to shut off," he supplied.

"Exactly! I have so much to do and now that my family is here I have to deal with my mother _and_ Molly, and Gabrielle wants to help but her version of helping is following me around and talking about Quidditch and _you_. I just wish-

She suddenly stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Harry. Here I am whining about my problems and you have…"

Her voice trailed off. There were no words, French or otherwise, that could convey the scope and scale of Harry's problems. While no-one truly knew what Harry was going to have to deal with, including Harry, everyone seemed to be terrified of what it would entail.

"It's all right," he replied. "Getting married is important."

Her smile was so genuine and _honest_ that before he knew it he was smiling as well. He was struck with a thought.

"I'll ask Gabrielle if she wants to fly tomorrow morning. "We'll be out of everyone's way up there."

"Harry, you do not know what you are doing to yourself. My sister does not care about my wedding, it is just the reason she gets to see _you_ again. She will never leave you alone if you fly with her again."

"You're exaggerating," he mumbled, feeling his face warm.

"I need to show Harry how much I've improved! And he had fun too! We flew for four hours!" Fleur exclaimed in a falsely cheerful and enthusiastic voice.

Seeing this goddess in human form, this untouchable, seemingly perfect and composed woman, morph instantly into an exuberant child was truly surreal. Harry couldn't hold back his laugh. He was happy to see Fleur smiling once again as well.

"I'm not scared…I'm going to ask her. Besides, I did have fun and she was fine around me," he replied.

Fleur leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. She looked extraordinarily smug. "That was nine-year-old, nervous, Gabrielle. You have no idea what you are in for with eleven-year-old, confident, _future Mrs. Potter_ Gabrielle.

"I'm not afraid," he repeated, doing his best to ignore the palpable fear now bubbling up in his consciousness.

Fleur laughed at his reply and he felt a bit of accomplishment. They could all do with a bit of laughter and smiling these days.

As they sat in companionable silence he realized he was actually looking forward to getting in the air with Gabrielle again, away from the hovering and interrogating. He remembered that Beauxbatons allowed first years to play Quidditch and mentally cycled through the insane training drills Wood had put him through when he joined the team. Maybe if he kept Gabrielle focused on Quidditch she wouldn't be so focused on _future_ weddings.

**May 9, 1998**

Harry loosened his tie and sagged into a nearby chair. Most of the Burrow's guests had left and he finally had a chance to get away…for a few minutes at least. He'd stayed engaged as long as he could, allowed himself to be introduced to as many friends and family as possible, nodded solemnly to every _it's such a shame_ and _so unfair_ and _he's in a better place now_ that was shared. Over the last few days, it had become remarkably easy to let the numbness take over. Except for this one. This one had been too much and he needed to escape for a few minutes.

He pulled out the schedule that Hermione had given him, tapped the box labeled 'Fred and Bill Weasley', and watched as the names disappeared, only to be replaced by a new batch.

_Colin Creevey 10:00 am_

_Remus and Tonks Lupin 1:00 pm_

_One more week to go,_ he reminded himself as he shoved the card back into his pocket.

One more week. Twelve more funerals. He could do this.

His moment of peace was broken by the sound of muttered French being spoken in his periphery. He turned to see Fleur and Gabrielle standing in the doorway. He couldn't understand what they were saying but based on the glances that were shot his way it somehow involved him. Fleur was doing most of the talking while Gabrielle had her head bowed, nodding along occasionally. Eventually, Fleur began walking toward him while Gabrielle remained stock still, head bowed.

"I was hoping to ask a favor, Harry," she began, and it immediately struck him how _off_ this seemed. They shouldn't be asking politely for things. Fred shouldn't have died. Fleur's husband shouldn't have died.

"Anything," he mumbled.

"Gabrielle has had a very rough day. She and Bill had become very close and…she's had a rough day. Would you mind flying with her for a bit? Children shouldn't have to deal with funerals."

His first reaction was to say Mrs. Weasley would be furious at such an idea. Flying at night…danger still lurking in the shadows…normally it would have been out of the question. But that was the old Mrs. Weasley. The new Mrs. Weasley simply nodded along. He told himself that the new Mrs. Weasley was temporary and it would get better. That's what everyone kept saying. It would get better.

"Sure, no problem," he answered without a thought. It was the least he could do.

"Gabrielle," Fleur called and the girl slowly ambled to her side.

They began speaking in French again but unlike before Gabrielle kept shaking her head. And she kept repeating something over and over again. Whatever she was saying she was quite adamant about it.

Fleur remembered that he was there as well and shot him an apologetic look.

"Gabrielle does not want to leave me alone," she supplied.

"You should come to," he offered and Gabrielle's eyes lit up in agreement.

"Please Fleur," Gabrielle pleaded.

"I do not want to fly," Fleur replied in dismissal.

Gabrielle began speaking in French before being interrupted by Fleur. "English only," she admonished. "We are being very rude to Harry."

"Come with us and watch then, like you did at Hogwarts."

Harry could tell by her expression that Fleur desperately wanted to join them…to escape the oppressiveness of the day for a few brief moments.

"I need to tell Molly and my mother where I will be going. You two go on ahead and I will join you shortly."

Gabrielle smiled and Harry felt a bit of the numbness melt away. He'd actually managed to do something helpful and it would be nice to fly for a bit.

"So tell me about your season…"

**May 2, 1999**

Harry sat in his chair on the stage and stared into the distance. The memorial celebration was done and he'd given his speech and, amazingly, hadn't bollixed it up too badly. Hermione had even complimented him on how well it had gone. That may have been due to the fact that she'd written most of it but he chose to ignore that bit of information.

It had been a not awful day. Not _good_ necessarily, but not nearly as bad as he had anticipated. Those well-meaning folks hadn't been lying last year when they said it would get better.

"The feast is going to be starting soon. Should we head in?" Hermione asked.

Harry gazed at the sea of people milling about and lost his appetite. "You two go ahead. I just want to sit out here for a bit."

"You can't hide-"

"I'm literally sitting on a stage in front of everyone, Hermione. This is the opposite of hiding," he replied.

Hermione folded her arms. "I know what you're doing. You know everyone will leave you alone if you stay up here and look like you're deep in thought and intense. At some point that's going to stop working, you know."

"Hmm," he replied absently. Everything she said was true but he wasn't dumb enough to admit that out loud. He did his best to look like he was in deep thought but eventually, a grin stubbornly poked through. Hermione's folded arms and accompanying scowl were too cute to ignore.

"I'm fine, really," he reassured. "I'm just not ready to deal with all _that,"_ he concluded as he motioned toward the crowd. "You know I'm no good at these things."

"Well, that's not true," Hermione replied, as her face softened and reached for Ron's hand. "Don't be too long, all right?" she asked hopefully.

Harry nodded and waved the pair off; grateful that Hermione now knew when her pleas were falling on deaf ears.

"We'll save you a seat," Ron informed as the pair walked away.

Harry stood and looked toward the Black Lake. Turning away from the crowd and staring off into the distance greatly increased the chances that no-one would try and talk to him. After several minutes he realized that his act was actually working. Listening to the sounds, watching the Giant Squid lazily splashing about, it was calming…reassuring. It was so calming that at some point he'd actually pulled up a chair and decided to stay here as long as possible.

He'd made it fifteen minutes before he was interrupted.

"I've been sent to fetch you," an amused voice chimed in from behind.

Fleur.

All things considered, it could have been much worse. As far as interventions go, she was one of the nicest options. They'd struck up an odd kinship over the last year…the pair of 'kind of but not really Weasleys' gravitated to each other naturally at any family functions they were a part of.

Fleur's desperation to avoid Molly's hovering and his desperation to avoid the woman's matchmaking made their casual alliance natural. A natural pairing off of the broken, misfit toys. They would ask each other about their jobs, he would ask about Gabrielle, she would tease him about dating…it was nice. Comforting.

"Hermione must be slipping," he joked as he continued to stare at the water. "I reckoned she'd give me ten minutes maximum before she started sending in reinforcements.

"If she and Molly had their way a group of us would have marched out here long before now, she replied. He could feel the soft smile in her voice.

Silence reigned for several seconds and Harry assumed Fleur was gazing at the lake as well.

"I think you're meant to be making me go back in there," he finally observed.

"Do you want to go back in?" she asked. "The food does look quite good…for Hogwarts standards at least."

Harry snorted. Fleur's casual insults of all things British had subsided somewhat over the last year but he always enjoyed it when a little gem would pop out.

"I'm not hungry but I suppose I should," he replied reluctantly. He knew he should stand up then…that he should walk into the Great Hall and _engage_ …but he couldn't quite manage it. Besides, any moment now Fleur would be grabbing him by the hand and pulling him inside whether he wanted to or not.

But while part of his prediction came to fruition he'd gotten the main part spectacularly wrong. Fleur _did_ grab his hand, but not to drag him away. Instead she had dragged her own chair over and taken a seat beside him. After a few minutes, she'd grabbed his hand and given it a gentle squeeze.

"They're going to send someone else after us any minute now," he observed.

"Hmm…," Fleur replied absently as she continued to stare into the distance.

"Gabrielle's team lost their final match," Fleur commented after a few minutes of companionable silence.

"Yeah, I heard all about it. Her letter outlining all of her team's failings was quite _detailed_."

Fleur chuckled. "I forget that she insists on keeping you updated. If only you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to fly with her that first time."

"Nah, her letters are great…a nice break from the things we have to deal with these days. You know what I mean."

"Hmm…, she murmured once again. The Black Lake seemed to be working its magic on her as well.

Harry thought he should say something about Bill…let her talk about how much she missed him and how awful it was to have to sit through this 'celebration'…to see his name engraved on the monument…to be anywhere near this place on this day. But he reckoned that was the last thing she needed.

"So what's new in the curse-breaking game?"

**October 31, 1999**

Harry fought the urge to grin as the Quidditch Stadium came into view. It was a bit neater and a bit cleaner than the Hogwarts grounds, but the Beauxbatons pitch was nothing short of spectacular.

"Harry!" Fleur exclaimed happily as she spotted him walking towards her. As she wrapped him in a hug Harry realized that a bit more of sunshine, a bit more exuberance, had returned to Fleur. She was getting better. The folks at the funerals hadn't been lying.

Before he knew it he was pulled into the stands and had greeted Mr. and Mrs. Delacour. Not for the first time, Harry felt Mrs. Delacour's eyes on him. It felt intense but not hostile or unwelcoming. But all things considered, he'd hoped she would stop soon. Veela were really good at being intense.

'She's doing really well," he commented thirty minutes later. 'It's clear her team has the better chasers and she's running interference until their lead grows. She's well-coached."

"I agree," Fleur replied, "and her captain thinks so too. "That's why he leaves her alone basically. Anything they could offer has already been drilled into her head thanks to her personal coach."

"You can have a personal coach?" he asked, drawing a playful punch to the shoulder.

"I meant you, Harry," she barked in frustration.

"I've not done much…just offered a few tips," he lied. That comment earned him another punch.

"Is that why Gabrielle brought pensieve memories of all her matches with her today?"

Harry's face warmed. Gabrielle was supposed to keep that a secret. "Well, Dumbledore's pensieve just sits there all of the time. I like to use it whenever I can to honor Dumbledore's memory."

He was such an awful liar. He did his best not to look at Fleur...he knew the look she was giving him would be very intense and embarrassing.

"It is very sweet," she offered as she patted his leg. "We are all very grateful for how much you have helped."

'I haven't done much…just a few letters…" he mumbled.

"Just take the compliment, Harry"

He chanced a glance at Fleur and noted that she did look very intense…but in a way that he'd never seen before. As the seconds went on he couldn't pry his eyes away. It felt like they were on the verge of _something_ …something more.

The moment was broken as a collective groan went up in the crowd. Harry looked to the pitch and watched several adults rushing toward a crumpled heap on the pitch. It appeared to be the other team's Seeker.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Gabrielle executed a Wronski Feint," Mr. Delacour supplied. He looked slightly dazed and off-center at watching his little girl pull off such a ridiculous move. Harry spotted Gabrielle hovering in the sky and realized she was looking at him.

He shot her a thumbs-up signal and fought the urge to smile as she beamed in pride. Smiling would not be prudent given the _intense_ glare now emanating from Mrs. Delacour.

**May 2, 2000**

Harry grumbled at his tenth ridiculous attempt to get his tie to look somewhat presentable. Magic was supposed to make things _easier_ but if anything the spell that Hermione had taught him was making it worse!

Kingsley promised him that he would only have to attend the annual memorial. That was their agreement. Harry would show up, and give a speech, and inspire the masses, and Kingsley wouldn't ask any more of him. But like a true politician, Kingsley had found a loophole.

"It's still the same day, Harry" he'd said. "We've just added a formal gathering at the end of the evening," he'd said. "And you don't have to attend if it's too much, but I would consider it a personal favor," he'd said.

He really hated the fact that he liked Kingsley so much. Manipulative bastard.

He heard the floo fare to life and cursed Kingsley once again. His date had been very specific and very adamant on the importance of being on time. Seconds later Fleur strode into the room, looking breathtaking and utterly soot-free. He had no idea how she managed it.

"And people complain about the French having no regard for time," she muttered teasingly before bursting out in laughter. "What on earth have you done to your tie?" she asked.

"I've been fighting it for the last thirty sodding minutes," he mumbled as she stepped closer and began unraveling the damage.

"And it looks like for once you've failed spectacularly," she mused. "Now hold still," she admonished before setting to work.

Harry did his best to look forward and not focus on the breathtaking woman standing a foot away. He'd always been able to handle himself around Fleur…no drooling or absent staring…even the times over the years when she'd managed to sneak up on him. But this was too much. She was beautiful enough when she didn't put in much effort and this version…it was too much. But it went well beyond that and he knew it.

She was a friend…a good friend that he'd relied on over the years for support and companionship…and he'd done the same for her. And over the last year, it seemed like she'd started staring at-

He stopped that train of thought immediately. They were friends and it was too soon. It had only been three years and it was too soon. He was probably imagining the stares anyway. This goddess would never be-

"All done," she said proudly as she moved on to smoothing out the lines of his jacket.

"You look quite dashing, Harry," she complimented. "No-one would ever know that you are dreading the next few hours."

"I'm not dreading it," he protested. "Well, not all of it," he amended at her raised eyebrow.

He expected her eyebrow to rise even further…for her to make another joke at his expense. But she didn't do that at all. She became much more serious…drifted just a bit closer…and _stared_.

"Please share what parts you are looking forward to, Harry," she nearly breathed. She was still drifting.

**October 31, 2003**

Harry and the Delacours exited the stands as quickly as possible, anxious to catch up with the fuming Seeker who had just stormed off the field. Gabrielle was clearly angry at her team's loss in spite of the fact that she had caught the snitch after realizing that victory was a hopeless cause. It really was a shame so many quality players had graduated in the last few years. It was going to be a long season.

He realized he was actually losing ground in his pursuit and let out a loud whistle to get her attention. If anything, his now-familiar method of summoning the girl had infuriated her even more. She was furious but she stopped walking and waited for her family to arrive, arms crossed and foot tapping. Harry was proud of himself for not smiling at the girl. Smiling would only make her angrier and he'd learned over the years to avoid making a Delacour woman angry, at all costs.

"It is a remarkable gift of yours, Harry," Mr. Delacour mused, "I've been trying to get Fleur and Gabrielle to listen to me for years and have failed spectacularly."

Harry laughed. "Gabrielle only listens because I'm good at Quidditch, and Fleur…she just pretends to listen.

"Harry!" Fleur protested with a playful slap of his arm. "There have been several times that I've listened to you," she joked, drawing a laugh from her father.

"Benjamin has a point, Harry. You do have quite a way with children. I am looking forward to seeing you with one of your own," Apolline Delacour chimed in.

Harry rolled his eyes. She wasn't even trying to be subtle now. He glanced at Fleur and nodded at the unspoken question in her eyes.

He smiled to himself as Fleur's delicate arms entwined with his and pulled him closer. "Well, I have good news for you both. In seven months you are going to get your wish."

Apolline let out a very un Veela-like shriek and quickly pulled them both into an embrace. Harry looked over his mother in law's shoulder to see Gabrielle staring at them from a distance, her prior annoyance now morphed into confusion. He did his best with his expression to convey that everything was fine as Apolline continued shrieking into his ear.

It was very surreal…making it to this point...with this woman…this _family_. At times he still felt like an imposter…that Bill Weasley should be the one giving encouraging smiles and having Apolline Delacour shrieking in his ear. He suspected a part of him would always feel that way.

But the important part, the monumentally important part, was he realized that all of those well-meaning people hadn't been lying during those awful two weeks after the war. He knew it would get better.


End file.
